


Eat You Up

by seraphicradiance (foxiea)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Birthday Cake, Birthday Sex, Birthday Smut, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Finger Sucking, Hand Jobs, Heavy Petting, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Strip Tease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 06:15:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13828236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxiea/pseuds/seraphicradiance
Summary: Keith and Lance's attempt to make a birthday cake for Shiro ends in disaster.  Luckily, Shiro is more than happy to help them clean up their mess.Written as a gift for the Shiro Birthday Exchange.





	Eat You Up

Keith and Lance have been giving Shiro weird looks all day.    


He noticed it first at breakfast, how Lance’s eyes darted up at him between mouthfuls of food-goo, then dropped back to his bowl almost as quickly.  It wasn’t anything to be alarmed about at that point.  Lance is, well, Lance.  He’s got a bit of a hero worship thing going on that’s aimed squarely at Shiro, and steals glances at him like he’s afraid to be caught looking.  Like he’s afraid Shiro will realise just how much Lance _adores_ him.  Like he’s afraid Shiro would dump him if he knew Lance was more like a lovesick puppy than the cool ninja sharpshooter he pretends to be.  
 

Keith, though.  Keith is a different story.  He’s known Keith since his Garrison days, knows his behaviours and mannerisms inside out.  He can recognise Keith’s mood in an instant from just the sound of his voice, the tightness in the line of his shoulders.  But the way Keith was looking at him made him do a double take, because it’s something he hadn’t seen since the very beginning of their friendship.  Cautious glances, startling when he caught Shiro’s eye and quickly averting his gaze.  
 

Even when he stood to clear his dish from the table, and left the room afterwards, he felt both their gazes on his back the entire time.    
  


It’s by coincidence that he comes across them that evening.  The path from his bedroom to the training deck passes by the kitchen, and it’s the moment he turns into that hallway that he hears them.  
 

“I can’t believe you made me drop it!”  
 

“Made you?  I didn’t even touch you!”  
 

“You were hovering!  You did that hovering Keith thing!”  


Lance’s voice is raised, pitched high in the tone he reserves almost exclusively for arguing with Keith.  Shiro wishes Lance wouldn’t rib Keith so often, wishes Keith wouldn’t rise to the bait each time.  It’s exhausting for him, and he knows how well they can get along when they have a common goal.  Knows a bit _too_ well, maybe, but those aren’t the kind of thoughts he wants to be having when he’s on his way to work out.  


He probably _should_ find out what they’re arguing about, at least.  He does consider it one of his duties as the Black Paladin to maintain the peace, even if his relationship with Keith and Lance makes doing that slightly more complicated.  The kitchen door slides open when his hand touches the entry panel, and Shiro steps inside.  


The kitchen is in complete disarray, and Keith and Lance are in a bit of a state too.  A thin layer of white powder covers Lance’s clothes, and it’s dusted on his forehead to boot.  Keith’s black shirt has been discarded at his feet, but there’s crumbs and something that looks like cream sticking to his chest.  


“What’s going on here?” Shiro asks.  They both turn to look at him.  


“Shiro,” Keith says, his voice low, brows sinking into a frown.  Lance’s eyes dart to Keith before dropping to the floor, his lips curled downwards.  He mutters something to Keith, too quiet for Shiro to hear.  


“Well?” Shiro prompts.  Lance kicks the floor.  
 

“It’s nothing,” he says. “Forget about it.  It’s ruined anyway.”  
 

He moves to leave the kitchen, but stops when he feels Shiro’s hand on his arm.  He looks up, and Shiro sees tears forming in his eyes, a wobble in his lips.  The sight hits Shiro right in his heart, makes him want to curl his arms around Lance and plant gentle kisses on the crown of his head.  
 

“Lance,” Shiro says.  “What’s wrong?”    
 

Lance’s face crumples.  “We wanted to make you a birthday cake, but it was a disaster.”  
 

Shiro blinks at the unexpected answer.  “A birthday cake?”  
 

“Pidge figured it out,” Keith says.  “It should be your birthday tomorrow.”  
 

His birthday.  Shiro hasn’t thought about anything as normal as birthdays in a long time.  But Keith and Lance have not only thought about it, they’ve gone to the effort of trying to make a cake for him.  It makes his heart swell.  
 

“Thank you,” he says, and it’s not quite enough, but there’s something caught in his throat and he doesn’t know if he can say anything more.  He wants to take the both of them in his arms and smother them in kisses to show them just how grateful he is, reflect how loved they’ve made him feel back onto them ten times over.  
 

Lance laughs, a bitter sound.  “What are you saying thanks for?  We ruined it.  It’s all over Keith now.”  
 

Well, that explains the state Keith’s in, at least.  Shiro tugs Lance closer, pulling him against his chest, not caring that the dust on Lance’s clothes will ruin his own.  Some things are more important than clean clothes, after all.    
 

“Thank you for thinking of me,” Shiro says.    
 

Lance is wide-eyed when Shiro ducks down to kiss him, but he sinks into the kiss quickly, mouthing against Shiro’s lips with an eagerness that is wholly Lance.  Keith clears his throat, and when Shiro pulls back from the kiss, Lance takes the opportunity to throw a smirk in Keith’s direction.  Shiro rolls his eyes, but it’s more in fondness than actual exasperation.    
 

“You know,” he begins, closing the distance between himself and Keith.  “I’m not so sure this cake is ruined after all.”  He bends down towards Keith with a mischievous glint in his eye, and he knows Keith saw it because of the way his body tenses ever so slightly.  
 

“What are you doing?” Keith asks.  Shiro closes his mouth over the joining of Keith’s neck and shoulder, licking at the bits of sweet-smelling cake on his skin.  Keith’s body shudders beneath him, and he’s pretty sure he hears Lance suck in a breath.  Shiro mouths his way up Keith’s neck, dragging his teeth over the skin in a promise of what’s to come.  Shiro licks at his lips when he straightens up, a small smirk on his face at the sight of the red colour that darkens Keith’s cheeks.  
 

“Delicious,” Shiro decides, as his eyes wander down Keith’s chest to settle on the barest hint of the bulge that’s appearing beneath his trousers.  Keith tries to cover himself, avoiding looking at either of them, and all Shiro can think is how his shyness in situations like these just makes him more endearing.  
 

“Do that again.” Lance’s voice is low, throaty sound, and Shiro wastes no time obeying.  He sinks to his knees and latches himself onto Keith’s chest, sucking at the skin and lapping up the crumbs and cream.  Keith’s breathing grows heavier, and he moves his hands to grasp at the back of Shiro’s head, pulling him closer, guiding him to where he wants Shiro’s tongue then arching into his touch.  Lance swears at the sight.  
 

Shiro is so focused on pleasing Keith that he doesn’t even notice Lance has moved to join them until he feels hot breath on the back of his neck, a hand ghosting down past his stomach.  Lance palms at his groin, and Shiro can’t contain the groan that rises in his chest.  Lance swears again, and moves closer, settling so his chest is pressed against Shiro’s back and his breath warms the shell of Shiro’s ear.  
 

“You’re so hard already,” Lance marvels.  His hand wraps around Shiro’s erection through the fabric, gives it a gentle squeeze.  Shiro’s hips buck forward of their own accord.  Lance strokes him up and down a few times, the sensation dulled by the fabric and nowhere near enough.  “Is the cake really that good?”  
 

Shiro tries to shake his head, but Keith’s grip is firm, holding him in place.  “S’Keith,” he manages to say, between sucks of skin that bloom a beautiful red beneath him.  Keith’s pale skin is so easy to mark, to leave reminders of his love there.  The answer seems to please Lance, because he gives Shiro’s dick another squeeze, and nips at Shiro’s ear in a way that makes him squirm.  “You wanna taste some more of him?” Lance asks, his voice dripping with intent.  
 

“ _Yes_ ,” Shiro groans.  Keith’s grip loosens, and Shiro looks up at him, feels his dick twitch at the sight of Keith’s intense, lust-filled stare.  Keith in bed is awfully similar to Keith in battle.  He operates almost entirely on instinct, lets feeling guide him from one moment to the next.  It’s something Shiro has tried to do, but he just can’t stop the thoughts that cycle through his brain, so instead he surrenders himself to Keith, lets him take control.  
 

Keith’s hand traces a curve around Shiro’s head, settling on his cheek.  His thumb glances across the skin there, fingers trailing over long-faded scars, the familiar path along the line of Shiro’s jaw that Keith’s mouth has worshiped for a lifetime.  Shiro takes a shaky breath, anticipation coiling with sticky-sweet desire in his gut.  Keith’s fingers find his mouth, and push inside.  
 

Shiro likes to put on a show.  He takes Keith’s fingers deep in his mouth, right up to the knuckle.  His tongue wraps around the digits, licks up between them, slides against them as he sucks the flesh like a dying man sucks at a water pouch.  He lets the lids of his eyes drop, casts his gaze up at Keith to _watch._ Keith isn’t smiling.  He’s looking down at Shiro like a man possessed, the desperation to claim him written plainly in the lines of his face.  Keith’s fingers slide out.  
 

Shiro doesn’t need to be told what to do.  His hands go to Keith’s hips and make quick work of the belt that loops around them.  He keeps a slow, deliberate pace when he starts peeling Keith’s trousers from his legs, but Keith gives a growl at that, a warning that he isn’t in the mood to be teased, and Shiro speeds up.  Once Keith is undressed, Shiro turns his attention to where it’s needed.  
 

Keith’s erection hangs heavy before him, and Shiro finds his mouth waters at the sight.  He raises his hand to reach out, stroke it, but Keith casts a sharp look behind Shiro’s head, and suddenly he’s held in Lance’s tight grip, his voice soft in Shiro’s ear.  “Nuh uh, no hands allowed.”  
 

Shiro does like a challenge.  He nods, and Lance releases his arms, but Shiro is sure he’ll be keeping a close eye on his movements.  He doesn’t need his hands.  He knows exactly how to use his tongue alone to make Keith come undone.  It doesn’t take nearly as much as Keith would like to pretend it does.  
 

Shiro presses his face against Keith’s body, the swell of Keith’s erection resting against his cheek, and inhales.  Keith smells of sweet cake and cold sweat, and Shiro gives in to the urge to lick the dewy skin of his hip.  Keith huffs.  Shiro allows himself a short chuckle, then licks again, this time at the head of Keith’s cock.  Keith tries to mask the shudder that makes its way down his body, but Shiro knows the meaning behind every single twitch.    
 

He licks up and down Keith’s shaft, curling his tongue around it until there’s a thin layer of saliva covering every part of it.  He takes the head into his mouth then, swallowing down further, deeper, and Keith’s hands snap to Shiro’s shoulders as he tries to steady himself against the wave of pleasure that hits him.  
 

“S-Shiro.”  
 

Keith’s lips are trembling, and he looks down at Shiro like he’s an angel offering Keith salvation.  Lance’s fingers find Shiro’s throat, then, sliding over his skin with the softest of touches.  
 

“Take him deeper, babe.”  
 

Shiro does, widening his lips and sliding his tongue further along Keith’s cock, pressing forward until he can’t anymore.  He swallows, and it tears a moan from Keith’s throat.  Keith’s hands find Shiro’s head again, one settling at the nape of his neck and the other curling into his shock of white hair.  Keith breathes out, a heady sound.  
 

“Can I fuck you like this, Takashi?”  Even when Keith had been driven half-mad with pleasure, he always asks, sweet-voiced and reminiscent of their Garrison days.  Shiro gives the slightest of nods, it’s all he can manage with Keith still so far down his throat.  
 

“Thank you,” Keith whispers, and Shiro could rename the stars for the way the light shines in Keith’s eyes in that moment.  Keith is slow as he pulls out.  He takes a deep breath, and Shiro makes sure to keep his jaw slack.  A heartbeat, two, then Keith rams back in to him.  Keith whines every time his cock hits the back of Shiro’s throat, his hips snapping forward _faster_ , _harder_.  Keith’s eyes are glued shut, sweat beading on his forehead, the picture of focused intent.  He looks beautiful like this, Shiro thinks.  
 

“Ah, ‘kashi.”  
 

He knows Keith is close when the thrusts become aborted, jagged things, almost careless as Keith seeks _more,  more_ , his movements shuddering to a stop when he finally cries out and empties himself into the back of Shiro’s throat.  The taste is salty, bitter, but Shiro swallows it regardless, laps at the viscous, sticky liquid until Keith’s cock is clean.  A few moments pass before Keith comes down from the high, and removes himself from Shiro’s mouth.  
 

Keith sinks into a chair, his breath coming in pants.  Shiro bends down to capture his lips, and Keith lets Shiro’s tongue slide into his mouth, glance against his own.  Keith doesn’t quite kiss back, just lets Shiro take control, press their tongues together and nip against him.  Shiro withdraws his tongue, and plants a long kiss against Keith’s lips.  
 

“I love you,” Shiro says, and Keith smiles at him.  He looks so vulnerable in that moment, with his smile curving up along his cheeks, the tenderness in his deep violet eyes.  Shiro’s fit for his heart to burst with pure adoration.  The look says more than words could, but Keith says the words anyway.  
 

“Love you too, ‘kashi.”  


Shiro plants one last kiss in Keith’s hair, and then turns back to Lance.  Lance’s eyes are closed.  He’s got one hand down his pants, stroking himself slowly, and he’s biting his lip.  He teeters forward on his heels ever so slightly as he ruts against his own hand, preparing himself for Shiro.  Where Keith is to-the-point in bed, Lance likes to flirt and tease and put himself on display.  Lance wants to be lusted after, and Shiro is more than willing to give him what he wants.  
 

Shiro takes position behind him, lets his own cock slide into the curve of Lance’s pert ass.  Lance sinks back into the touch.  He squeezes his cheeks around Shiro’s erection.  Shiro groans at the sensation and bucks his hips forward, burying himself closer against Lance’s skin.  He nips gently at the back of Lance’s neck, and kisses down to the collar of his shirt, tongue darting out just barely to give a quick lick where Lance is ticklish.    
 

“Strip for me baby?” Shiro asks.  Lance turns towards him, then take a step back.  He glances at Keith to throw a wink his way, then his attention is back on Shiro.  Lance blows him a kiss.  As Lance begins to pull his shirt up, his body starts to sway.  Each inch of skin he reveals is followed by a curving of his hips.  When it’s finally removed, he turns his back to Shiro, and bends over.  
 

Lance’s ass truly is a sight to behold, even beneath his jeans.  Lance’s fingers hook into the belt loops, thumbs sliding beneath the elastic of his underwear, and tugs.  Shiro thinks he forgets how to breathe when, just as the curve of his cheeks are revealed, Lance gives his hips a shake.  Shiro groans aloud.  
 

“Like what you see babe?” Lance purrs.  
 

“You have no idea.”  
 

Lance turns his head, blinks at him innocently.  He slides the jeans and underpants down the rest of the way, and steps out of them neatly.  “Tell me then.”  
 

Lance could very well be the death of him.  Shiro closes the distance in half a stride, and clutches Lance close.  He spins them around so they’re facing Keith, who is watching with interest from his chair.  He’s growing hard again, his interest stirred by Lance’s little show.  
 

“You look so good, Lance,” Shiro tells him, loud enough that Keith can hear his words too.  “The way you move, I want to touch you so badly.”  Shiro lets his fingers sink into Lance’s thighs, just hard enough to bruise.  Lance likes the evidence to be on display, too.  “When you wiggle your ass like that, fuck, I think about how good it’ll feel when I’m inside you, when you’re-”  
 

“ _Shit_ ,” Keith hisses, and Lance looks up at him with a scowl.  It’s his turn with Shiro now, and he doesn’t like being interrupted.  
 

“ _What?_ ”  
 

“We didn’t bring any lube.”  
 

“ _Quiznak._ ”  
 

Lance turns, his smile sinking in his disappointment.  “I’m sorry, Shiro.  I should’ve thought about that before I started trying to get you worked up.”  
 

“Hey it’s okay,” Shiro says.  “That striptease was really, _really_ good.  But for now, I think we should probably get cleaned up.”  He can feel the sweat clinging to his skin, and he’s really looking forward to washing it all away and then sinking into bed with his two favourite people in the universe.  
 

“Cleaned up?”  
 

Keith is frowning, a look of disappointment he can’t quite hide blossoming on his face.  Shiro blinks, his mouth half-open in a question that he’s forgotten how to ask.  Keith and Lance exchange a look, then Lance grins up at Shiro, eyes flashing with wicked intent.  
 

“Actually, I think I have a better idea.  Since you enjoyed eating your cake so much, how about we go back to your room and you can eat me?”  


Shiro’s dick stiffens further at the words, and he realises he’s going to be in for a long night.

**Author's Note:**

> Hunk would be disappointed if he knew this happened where he cooks smh
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://foxieafic.tumblr.com/)


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